


i'm giving it all to you (and asking everything in return)

by transkenobis



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: 212th ARC Trooper Rex, Angst, Canon Compliant, Character Study, Gen, POV Third Person Limited, implied pining a little bit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-01
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-19 05:15:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29621178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/transkenobis/pseuds/transkenobis
Summary: "You knew what your choice was going to be, and you thought I'd reason you out of making it. But I'm not going to. Not this time."Skywalker needs a second-in-command. Rex attempts to rationalize.
Relationships: CC-2224 | Cody & CT-7567 | Rex, CT-7567 | Rex & Anakin Skywalker
Comments: 6
Kudos: 26





	i'm giving it all to you (and asking everything in return)

**Author's Note:**

> title from prosthetic love by typhoon. loosely dedicated to my mother who told me the other day that making her happy shouldn't be a factor in making Major Life Decisions.  
> major thanks to milo and cy for beta reading this, i owe you two my life!!  
> (also, hey, first non-meta fic i've posted! winner moments!)

Rex sits cross-legged on his thin cot, stripped down to his thermal blacks and wiping his vambraces off with a rag. Satisfied, he sets them in one of the two piles of plastoid he's got going — one for clean, one for dirty. Well, less _dirty,_ more _could be slowly breaking apart from acid damage._ He's seen plenty of planets so far, and none he wants to return to _less_ than Vjun. It being a lifeless desert was bad enough, and the acid rainstorms took the tour from bad to worse.

He picks up his DC-17s next. Armor can be replaced and repainted relatively easily if it degrades, but metal corrodes, and he'd rather not be caught in the middle of a battle with blasters that don't work just because he couldn't be bothered with due diligence.

Wiping down all the little nooks and crannies in the machinery is repetitive enough to lull him into relaxation. He's thankful for the quiet of his quarters — one of the privileges of being the 212th's only ARC trooper. He loves his _vode,_ and he'd give them the galaxy if he could, but it's nice to have something that's _his._

A sharp knock on the door breaks him out of his almost-trance. He stops and looks up.

"Permission to come in?" Commander Skywalker's voice. The metal of the door can't filter out his familiar teasing tone, like he's going to nudge you in the ribs after telling a particularly bad joke.

A smile starts to creep onto Rex's face. "Permission granted."

The door slides open with a hiss, and Skywalker gives him a wave before crossing the room and sitting down on the cot, shoulder brushing Rex's left arm. He's sporting a few more scrapes than usual and a bacta patch that peeks out over the top of the collar of his robes, but his usual lopsided grin is firmly in place. Their last campaign doesn't seem to have taken too much out of him, at least. 

"How're you doing?" Skywalker asks, slumping back against the wall. 

"Eh, same as usual." Rex shrugs, returning to wiping down his blaster. Rainy planets were already some of his least favorites, even without the _acid_ part. "What about you?"

"I'm alright." He straightens up, meets Rex's eyes. "Just finished talking with Obi-Wan."

 _General Kenobi,_ Rex thinks, instinctively correcting him. "What'd the general say?"

"Well—" Skywalker's grin widens, and it does something strange to Rex's heart—"he thinks I'm due to be knighted soon. A full Jedi. I'll get my own command and everything."

Rex stops. Logically, he knows that he should've expected this. Skywalker would be just a year younger than him if they aged at the same rate, and he's incredibly skilled to boot.

But something about it feels _wrong_ to him. Rex has only known him as _General-Kenobi's-padawan_ , and occasionally as _Commander-Skywalker-my-friend-question-mark._ He can't picture him without the 212th. With his own command, on the opposite side of the galaxy. Without Rex there to watch his back and banter with.

What comes as more of a shock is that he can't picture _himself_ without Skywalker. It puzzles him, given he's only known him for a few months out of the ten years he's been alive, but he makes the executive decision to ignore it. "That's great," he manages. "Me and the rest of the boys'll miss you, though."

Skywalker shifts, hands twisted together in his lap. "I mean, that's kind of what I wanted to talk to you about." His smile is shaky, in a very un-Skywalker twist of doubt, as he continues. "See, I'll need a second-in-command. Someone I can trust to have my back and tell me when I'm being a complete ass. And…" he trails off, but his eyes have a _look_ in them, as if he expects Rex to figure out what he was going to say _and_ have a response. Actually, he's a Jedi, he's used to people being able to read his mind. Nevermind.

"Sir," he starts, tentatively, "whatever battalion they assign you to will already have a commanding officer. There won't be a need to transfer anyone. Besides, Cody's far too attached to the 212th to leave, and I don't think the general would let you take him."

"I don't want _Cody,_ " Skywalker snaps back. His brows furrow, and he almost reminds Rex of someone who's seen a missile coming and is only waiting for it to hit them. "I want _you._ "

Rex's brain crashes, like a speeder in a comedy holofilm, with tooka yowls, public domain metal-crunching noises, and smoke coming from off-screen. Somehow, it never occurred to him that Skywalker liked him enough to want to keep him around. "I…" He swallows. "I'm, uh. I'm honored. Sir."

"Oh, come on, Rex. You're an ARC, you're more than qualified. It isn't like you couldn't handle it," Skywalker replies, folding his arms across his chest.

Rex is still thinking in halting jerks, but he manages to fit words together. "Thank you, sir, but like I said, your battalion'll already have a commanding officer."

"Funny thing about that, actually. I looked up the unassigned battalions, you know, the ones that _don't_ have a Jedi already, and there aren't very many. One of them just lost one of its captains, so there's a chance, at least." He pauses. "You can say no. If you want to. I don't want to force you into anything."

Rex drags a hand down his face. "I'll need to think about it. That's not necessarily a _no,_ I just…" 

"You need a bit to process." Skywalker smiles again, claps him on the shoulder. 

"It's fine. I get it. Take as long as you need."

And like that, he gets up, robes rustling and a hand sliding off his bicep. Rex watches him leave, then, the second the door slides shut, drops his face into his hands and groans.

\---

"Gods, _vod'ika,_ " Cody sighs, the mando'a word gentle as it rolls off his tongue. "I can't make this decision for you." He drags a hand down his face, settling it over his mouth. Rex decides not to derail the conversation and point out that he looks an awful lot like General Kenobi when he does that.

"You want to, though."

Cody looks up at him from where he's sitting at his desk, and the lines on his too-young face look deeper in the dim light of his office. "Of course I do. I want to keep you from slingshotting yourself directly into a command position that you haven't been prepared for, just because a doe-eyed _jetii_ asked you if you wanted to jump and your first instinct was to say _how high._ " He sighs, far more tired than he should be at his age. "But I can't. For all I know, saying yes could end up being the best thing to ever happen to you, and I don't want to be the one who held you back. I can't see the future, Rex."

"I know," he manages. "I just thought maybe you'd—"

"Talk you out of it?" Cody asks, leaning back in his chair, and the smile on his face seems more sad than satisfied. "You're my baby brother, Rex, I know how you get. You knew what your choice was going to be, and you thought I'd reason you out of making it. But I'm not going to. Not this time."

Tears start to prick at the corner of Rex's eyes, though he isn't entirely sure why. Maybe it's just whatever petulance the Kaminoans couldn't force out of him. "What if I want you to?"

Cody's shoulders slump. He pushes himself out of his chair and crosses the small room to where Rex is more shaking than standing. His arms fit around his shoulders, plastoid hitting plastoid with a hollow thud, and Rex buries his face in the crook of his neck. Part of him is reminded of Kamino, back when they were both cadets and their biggest problems were the nightmares that woke them up screaming. Cody would let him curl up in his bunk until the bone-deep anguish that only children, inexperienced and innocent, can feel passed. _If only our problems now were still that simple._

"It's alright, _vod'ika,_ " Cody murmurs, voice soft against his temple.

"'m gonna miss you, though," he manages.

Cody's arms tighten around his shoulders. He scoffs, but it isn't a mean sound. "Skywalker hasn't been knighted yet, much less given his own command. You don't even know if you'll be leaving."

Somehow, inexplicably, they both know he will be. In the meantime, though, Rex lets himself crumple into his brother's embrace.

\---

They're going back to Coruscant.

Rather, the 212th is going to be on leave, and Rex has an idea of what Skywalker and Kenobi might be doing. Just an idea — a rough estimate, really — but it's enough to get him to bite the bullet.

He walks through the halls of the _Negotiator_ as quickly as he can without running. The mess hall is largely empty when he walks in, but laughs and shouts bounce off the high ceilings. One table has been commandeered by a group of troopers, and on further inspection, one unruly padawan, who seems to be orchestrating a game of sabacc.

Based on his grimace, Rex figures he's losing. Not unexpected, given he knows for a fact that Skywalker is an awful gambler. _May as well give him an excuse to end the game before he goes completely broke._ "Commander," he cuts in, voice pitched loud enough to be heard over the din.

Skywalker looks up from his cards, face lighting up. "Rex."

Rex swallows hard in an attempt to untie the anxious knots his stomach is working itself into. "I decided."

The table goes quiet. _Damn it,_ Rex thinks. He knows better than most that his _vode_ are worse gossips than most, and he doesn't want to stop and consider how they might be interpreting his words.

"Yeah?" Skywalker's mouth quirks up at one corner.

"Yeah." He suppresses the urge to wring his hands, but only barely. "I—I will. If it all shakes out."

Skywalker starts to respond, but Waxer cuts him off before he can get a word out. "Hey, you will _what?_ " Next to him, Boil is frowning and not even trying to hide the credits he's counting out. 

Skywalker raises an eyebrow at both of them, and Rex is just about sick of people mimicking General Kenobi's mannerisms. Then he leans back in his chair. "Well, _I'm_ gonna be knighted soon. I'll probably go through the Trials once we're planetside, actually. But I'll be a general then, and have my own battalion to command. And, you know, I _might_ be in a situation where I need a second-in-command."

The table is still silent, but it has a more uncomfortable air to it now. A couple troopers glance over at Rex, something like betrayal in their eyes, and his heart twists. "No guarantees that I'll actually be leaving," he says, partially to calm his own worries. "And besides, I'll still be around. It's not like I'm being permanently deployed to the Outer Rim." That gets a couple laughs, at least.

Skywalker nods. "I don't want to steal him from you all. It's not my place to force anyone to leave their family in the dust." His voice has taken on a slightly bitter quality, but he grins through it.

A few troopers murmur assent, though most of them still look upset. Boil repockets his credits, then idly shuffles his sabacc cards, avoiding Rex's eyes. To be fair, very few of them _aren't,_ Skywalker among them. He's been watching him pretty steadily, occasionally glancing at one of the others at the table. He doesn't _seem_ to be pitying him, but Rex doesn't want to prod at the soft look in his eyes in case he is.

It's a sharp contrast with the eyes of his _vode._ There's betrayal, still. Accusation of being a traitor, for picking some _jetii_ over them. Even sorrow at the prospect of having to see him off. It makes him feel awful, but what makes him feel _worse_ is that it isn't enough to make him change his mind.

Skywalker decides to break the silence after a minute. "Hey, why don't we deal him in?"

"Not on your life," Rex scoffs. "I'm not letting these bastards whip my ass one last time."

"Come on. Just for old time's sake." The others perk up at that, and Rex doesn't have the heart to crush them any more.

"Fine," he sighs, taking the empty chair that Skywalker pulls up. Their elbows knock together as one of the shinies deals him a hand of cards, though it feels like more of an affectionate nudge on Skywalker's part. A little _hey, you handled that just fine, don't beat yourself up over it._ Or maybe he's reading too far into it. 

Either way, it slips from his mind as the game picks up right where it left off.

\---

Rex tries to make the most of leave. He hangs out in the common areas of the 212th's planetside barracks, spends a little longer in the mess hall at meals than he normally would, goes to 79's with the others every time they offer. Half of him feels guilty, like he's having to do penance for all the times he turned down a card game or a trip out. And, of course, the other half just wants to rip the bandages off and get the goodbyes over with for good.

Eventually, though, Skywalker bounds back into his life. The braid behind his ear is gone, and he looks about the happiest Rex has ever seen him. His grin widens when he spots Rex, who's pouring himself a late-evening cup of caf from the brewer in the mess. Before he can blink, Skywalker has crossed the room to his side.

"Hi, sir," he says, and takes a sip from his grey standard-issue mug. It's nothing artisanal, somehow tasting bitter and bland all at once, but it does the job just fine. 

"Hi, Rex," Skywalker replies, almost talking over him. "You know, they didn't even have me go through the Trials? Figured I'd just about covered my bases with my 'heroics in battle' or something."

That catches him off-guard. _Damn. I knew he was good, but that's… well, it's something else._ "Congratulations."

"Thanks. Hey, I got my new assignment. Our new assignment, actually." Skywalker's rocking back and forth on his heels like he's about to burst with excitement, and Rex thinks he _might_ be vibrating. Could be the caf, too.

He feels a smile creep onto his face all the same. "You talked them into it?"

"First, I didn't have to talk command into giving me the battalion we ended up with, they did that themselves. You wound me." Rex has to stifle a laugh at that. "And, I mean, it didn't really take that much to get them to agree to me bringing in a second. Seemed pretty happy to not have to hassle the Kaminoans for more troops." He shrugs. "You've got a good reputation, too. There _are_ a few forms you have to fill out, but I can send them to you, and I've probably got priority in processing. Do you wanna come meet the 501st before we ship out?"

Skywalker is talking a mile a minute, and it takes Rex a second to catch up. "Sure. After I finish this. By the way, sir, when _are_ we being deployed?"

"A few days from now. Same time as the 212th, actually."

" _With_ the 212th?"

"Nah. We're going with Plo Koon and the 104th. The Seps are trying to take some strategically important Mid-Rim planet. Or something like that."

"Alright," Rex replies. Wolffe and his men are fine to work with, and Cody likes them well enough that he respects them on principle. "I assume you'll send me the specifics? And those forms?"

"'Course," Skywalker says. "Man, I think you care enough about protocol for the both of us. I'll get you to loosen up by the time this war ends, I promise."

Rex rolls his eyes. "Sure, General."

"Oh, don't start with that," Skywalker groans, face twisted in mock agony. "Come on, let's go before you permanently damage my ego."

The walk is quiet. Neither of them really have anything to say, and most of what they could talk about goes unspoken. This — all of it — is new and different and _terrifying,_ but dwelling on what-ifs has never made Rex's life any easier. He swallows the stress and focuses on keeping pace with Skywalker's annoyingly long legs until they reach the 501st's barracks. 

On their way through the brightly-lit grey hallways, Skywalker stops a few troopers to ask about the battalion's commander. They look a bit like deer in the headlights in the presence of a Jedi, and an unfamiliar one at that, but the directions they give are good enough to guide the two of them to an office's door. 

Skywalker knocks, and the door opens to the familiar face of a clone. For all intents and purposes, he's the spitting image of Jango Fett — no tattoos or wildly-cut hair, no scars. _At least Cody has that to set him apart._

He snaps to attention. "Sir."

"At ease," Skywalker says, holding out a hand. "I'm Anakin Skywalker, and I guess your battalion's general now. And you?"

"Commander Appo," he responds, taking Skywalker's hand and shaking it once, firmly. "Designation CC-1119."

"Pleased to meet you, Commander." Skywalker smiles, and Rex swallows a twinge of jealousy before he can think about why.

"ARC trooper Rex," he says, taking a step closer and shaking Appo's hand in the same way. He nods in acknowledgement.

"Well, _Captain_ Rex soon," Skywalker adds, voice warm, and Appo tenses.

"So you're the replacement." His eyes harden and look him over. Rex can't help but feel like he's being measured up against the captain he lost.

 _I'm more than that,_ he thinks, a bit of envy lingering at the edges of his awareness. But he understands what Appo's going through, and knows that he can't expect to have the camaraderie he got with the 212th right off the bat. Still stings going down, though. "Yes."

Appo's mouth straightens out further, if that's even possible, but his eyes seem to soften out. He's waiting. For whatever reason, Rex doesn't think it's for anything else from him or Skywalker.

"Come on in, then," he says, at last. He steps aside. "I suppose I've got to get you two caught up to date."

\---

Rex's last days with the 212th pass by in the blink of an eye. Before he knows it, his transfer forms have been filed and authorized, and he's tidying his small quarters — sweep the floors, prop the mattress up against the wall for whatever poor soul ends up getting a promotion after him, wipe down the bunk.

He fits what few personal belongings he has into a small black bag to take with him. Just a razor, his personal GAR-issue datapad, and other hygiene supplies, with few trinkets from missions and the other _vode_ tossed in, but it feels heavier than a mountain sitting in his lap. Cody lets himself in just as he pulls the zipper shut.

"So," Cody says, holding his helmet under an arm. It looks almost casual.

"So."

"This is goodbye, then." His voice is tight. Honestly, it's not like he and Rex _haven't_ gotten their farewells out already, but this time it's _real._

"Not forever," Rex replies, mostly to remind himself. "We both know Skywalker and Kenobi will still be as inseparable as ever."

Cody nods, returns his thin smile. "Your transport's leaving soon. Want me to walk you there?"

"It's not like I'm _dying,_ " Rex scoffs, but he doesn't refuse, and Cody always notices that sort of thing.

He forces himself to stand up, tossing his bag over one shoulder and holding his bucket under the other. He _should_ be the one moving, walking to the door, but he can't seem to convince his legs to work.

In the end, it's Cody that crosses the distance between them and pulls him into a tight embrace, his helmet dangling from one hand.

"You're gonna be fine," he sighs, pressing their foreheads together. It's some basic Mandalorian expression of affection, from what Rex can gather, but Cody manages to fit an universe of brotherly love into the simple gesture.

"I know."

They stand like that for several long minutes, until Rex's wrist comm pings. Slowly, reluctantly, he pulls back to answer it. Skywalker's voice crackles through the small speaker.

 _"Hey, you still coming? No last minute bailouts?"_ He's got a laugh in his throat as he says it, but his words tug at Rex's heartstrings. He could still say no, if he wanted to.

"Of course I'm still coming, sir. I'll be there soon."

 _"I'll see you then."_ Then the 

transmission ends, and Cody sighs.

"Time to go, I see," he says. "Come on, let's get on with it."

The walk to the transport is just as quiet as the trip to the 501st's barracks a few days prior, though not as long. When they get to the tarmac, Skywalker and Kenobi seem to be saying their goodbyes. Then Skywalker looks up and catches Rex's eyes. He says one last thing to Kenobi, who smiles softly and pats him on the shoulder. Then he motions for him and Cody to come over.

"Captain," Kenobi says, nodding in acknowledgement and crossing his arms behind his back.

"General," Rex replies. "It was an honor serving with you."

"As was serving with you." Kenobi sounds serious enough that Rex decides to take the compliment as such. "Do try and keep my _former_ padawan out of trouble. He seems to have a sense for finding it."

Rex stifles a laugh at Skywalker's noise of protest. "I'll do my best, sir. But," he adds, "I can't make any promises when it comes to him."

"Oh, yes, he's notoriously unpredictable."

Skywalker groans. "Come on, Rex, let's get out of here before he really gets going."

"Only for the sake of your ego, sir." 

Somehow, Rex manages a step away from Kenobi and Cody, but not before the latter can clap a hand on his one remaining pauldron.

 _Jate'kara,_ Cody mouths. _Good luck._

When he smiles, it feels natural, like it was waiting for him to let it out. It's almost a shame to settle his helmet over it, but Cody nods, his eyes shining.

He hikes his bag higher on his shoulder, just to delay having to go for another second, but something deep in his chest tugs him away.

Then, still grinning, Rex turns on his heel and follows Skywalker to the transport.

**Author's Note:**

> this was supposed to be a lot funnier but i GUESS i'm stressed about college applications and the SAT and shit and it carried over. and evidently, once you get into the Rex Mindset you become annoyingly aware of all of the implications of your narrative decisions. oh well.  
> feel free to leave kudos or a comment, they're much appreciated. or hit me up on [twitter](twitter.com/transkenobis)!


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